Trinity, Book 1: The Crystal Connection
by TheLastSpectre
Summary: Set between the events of Mark of Athena and House of Hades, a story is told of demigods and their allies waging a desperate war behind the scenes of Gaea's Revenge, a battle against evils even older than they know. Primarily OC cast, spoilers regarding the events of Lightning Thief up to Mark of Athena included.
1. I - Prelude

**Ryan**

* * *

Take my advice - leading an interesting life is not necessarily a good thing. Mine, for example. You might think that being the child of an all-powerful immortal being makes for a blast. You can kick back, get access to a whole bunch of cool powers, and let mom or dad take care of your life, right?

Well, it doesn't exactly work like that. See, there are a few problems with that assumption if A) you have no idea who your godly parent is, B) if every other kind of immortal being is trying to kill you, and C) you keep getting thrown into the most dangerous situations possible. Superhuman reflexes and a certain amount of willpower can only get you so far. As for me, it all started when I lost half a day and woke up drowning.

It was the afternoon of my fifteenth birthday and, like usual, I was in the nearest library. Some people would call me a bookworm nerd, and those people would be seriously underestimating how well both of those adjectives apply to me. Ever since I can remember, I've been addicted to knowledge of any kind. I suppose it makes me feel safe - especially in the demigod world, the more you know, the better off you are. Swallowing every detail you can will save your life if you need a quick weakness to pin down for a monster, or the answer to an ancient riddle. It didn't really prepare me for my first quest, though.

I suppose I should have been in the infirmary, tending to those who had been damaged in the attack. I was one of the few with enough sense (though I knew others would have and did call it cowardice) to take cover when it began, and as such I escape with only minor bruises. Many weren't so lucky. A major battle followed by an unexpected incursion, complete with ballistae and a dragon? Not a recipe for good times.

But I was doing what I felt comfortable with. That is, poring over a stack of medical texts taller than I was, taking two pages at a time, so that I could do what was needed well enough to be useful. Unfortunately, that meant I wasn't actually _being_ useful. I didn't have to turn around, but I knew someone was standing right behind me, glaring at my neck reproachfully. It gave me a tingling feeling in that exact spot, much like a combat reflex warning me of danger. In this case, the danger was a girl.

I turned around. Sally Fischer, daughter of Mercury, was outside of the rigid posture I had been sure until that moment she was permanently stuck in. Her hips were tilted to one side, arms crossed over a purple T-shirt. Her thin, chapped lips were formed into a scowl, and her bright yellow eyebrows had almost disappeared into the gray beret she wore to hide her buzz cut.

You'd never guess Sally and I were friends from looking at us. For one, as the centurion of the Fourth Cohort, she outranked me by a vast margin, even though I'd been at camp longer. If it hadn't been for the year standard of induction, I'd probably still be on _probatio_. And her reputation as the so-called 'hardest of the core' made it difficult for anyone to accept that she could form bonds with people. But our relationship was predicated on mutual respect, much to my surprise.

It wasn't hard to respect Sally. She was a full demigod, and had inherited her father's speed aspect; I'd seen her top out at speeds more than twice as fast as Olympic sprinters, which made her a nightmare in combat. On top of it all, she carried a _gladius_ cut down a few inches so that it was more of a knife than a sword. With that blade plus her footwork, she could easily get inside someone's guard without any significant disadvantage.

And she liked me because...well, I was the Fourth Cohort's impromptu Google, essentially. Anytime a question was brought up, Sally knew I would have an answer. It was about the only time I was useful to the group, but I enjoyed the feeling of being an assistant, even if it meant imitating Siri half the time. 'Ryan, what's the top speed of a jaguar?' 'Beep. Would you like that in kilometers or miles per hour, ma'am?' 'Ryan, what's the weather like on the San Franciso Bay?' 'Boop. Eighty three percent humidity and overcast, ma'am. There are two stores in your area that sell raincoats.' And so on.

We joked about that (well, I did), but everyone knew knowledge was power, and I did my best to stick to my strengths. Even if we did have no idea who my godly parent was. I'm an odd case in that everyone knew I was a demigod. If I hadn't been, Lupa wouldn't have sent me to Camp Jupiter in the first place. The problem was, I was also an orphan. So both of my parents were open for immortal heritage. But even though I was fifteen, I hadn't been claimed. That worried me.

"You know what the punishment is for dereliction of duty, Seacrest?" Sally's voice brought my thoughts back to the real world. My name isn't _really_ Ryan Seacrest, but since we don't know my last name, everyone usually just puts in a random surname shared by another famous Ryan. I don't mind, even though sometimes I wish I were at least related to those people. Unless someone subs in Newman.

"Umm," my mind raced and settled upon the answer almost immediately, but it wasn't really pleasant. "Beaten to death by cudgels?"

Sally clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Please. That's barbaric. This is 'Frisco, we don't use cudgels - we use baseball bats."

If it hadn't been Sally, I might have thought she was serious. Actually, I _still_ couldn't be sure. My mouth opened and closed, and I could've sworn I heard myself emit a small squeaking noise. Mentally, I was eliminating possible parents, like I usually did when I proved inept at something. Not good with words or remotely charismatic. There went Venus, Apollo and Jupiter, along with a few others.

Sally rolled her eyes. "At ease. You know, you really should consider applying to be an _immune_. At least then you can't be disciplined for hiding in the library while something important goes on."

"I don't really have the skills necessary to be an _immune_." I mumbled.

"Nonsense," she snapped. "You're a trivia factotum. An oracle, but for the past and present. That's how you should phrase the request, anyway." Her deep blue eyes scanned my textbooks, and as her lips moved down into more of a confused scowl than a frustrated one, her eyebrows went to opposite direction. They looked like halved lemon wedges inching toward her brain. "'Human Anatomy and Physiology'? Are you trying to become an overnight brain surgeon? We only need volunteers to apply bandages."

I avoided eye contact. "Anything worth doing is worth doing the best that you can."

"Hmm." I thought I saw a trace of a smile on her features. "So you do pay attention to my speeches. Well, there is a flaw in your logic. Improving means that the best you can do changes. So my advice to you is this: Do the best you can _now_, improve later, and then apply the new best."

I nodded hesitantly. She returned the nod, then snapped back to her traditional stance, which made it look like her underwear had run up suddenly and violently. As she departed in a disciplined march, she said: "Now replace those books in alphabetical order and get to the infirmary."

I didn't really make it that far.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm not back...but I'm not necessarily away anymore, either. I'll still be working on Mass Effect: From the Ashes, it's just taking far longer than I expected. In the meantime, I've pulled this out of my pocket. Hope you all enjoy it - I know it's already easier for me than FtA has become. I love both, but shorter chapters definitely appeal to me. Stay tuned.**


	2. II - Swimming

**Ryan**

* * *

I only remember closing my eyes for a split second. I could vaguely hear some sort of rushing sound in my ears that I thought was the wind, but recognized later as the Little Tiber. At first, I didn't understand why it was so prevalent, or why it seemed to become more insistent the longer I paid attention. When I took a new look at my surroundings, I saw that I was, in fact, standing on the river's banks, staring down into the blue expanse apparently without cause.

My own face stared back at me, but I was different. The overall structure was what I was accustomed to - gaunt and angular, with wispy sideburns that trailed up past half-circle eyebrows into a shaggy mass of brown hair - but my eyes weren't their usual grass-green. Instead, they were a deep blue, like an exaggerated representation of the water I was looking into.

My lips didn't do anything, as far as I could feel, but my reflection spoke to me in a woman's voice. She sounded weary, but cold, as though she had spent a whole week cleaning up the messes of her unruly children and I was a runaway nanny. "Take a last glance about if you must. You will not see this place again."

I didn't take her advice. Instead, I frowned. Some presence in my mind was making it hard to think. I tried to figure out who she was, exactly. Clearly she was some sort of goddess, but she didn't match any that I knew of, unless Diana or Juno had decided to possess the Little Tiber. "Who are you?" I asked groggily, which wasn't a good sign, but I couldn't bring myself to run away.

"I am the abyss, child," the woman murmured. A long, thin arm reached out from the reflection of my chest and inched its way toward me. My heart pounded, but I didn't feel frightened. In fact, given the rapidly-increasing fatigue that I was experiencing, fear was the last thing on my mind. "Come into my embrace."

I had closed my eyes again, and when I opened them, I noticed three things. One, I was underwater. Roughly thirty feet below the surface, with my head pointed straight up as though I had gone in feet-first and sunk like a stone. Two, it was night above the surface of the water. And three, I didn't have any breath saved in my lungs.

Yeah, that last one was probably the most important detail.

I snapped awake and immediately began to panic, which wasn't helpful. My legs kicked out and my arms waved, stirring up a cloud of bubbles around me. I could feel my chest begin to burn. Something grabbed my ankle, and I lashed out at it. I struck a soft surface, and the hand let go, but I still couldn't get far enough away to breach. My best hope was that my body would start breathing automatically once buoyancy took effect, even if I was unconscious, but that didn't seem likely.

Then, a force hit me from behind, starting with the entire area around my hips and pelvis. It was...not comfortable, but it propelled me up like a rocket. I found myself wondering if rockets worked underwater, and realized that I had never researched the subject.

I landed on shore, and if I hadn't already lost it all, the breath would have been force out of me. As it was, I continued flailing around for a few seconds, then began taking in sharp gasps of oxygen. I waited for my vision to stop being so violently red before I took stock of my surroundings.

To my surprise, there seemed to be huge mountains on either side of me that obscured any view of where I was. Large, rubbery mountains. It took me a moment to figure out that I was looking at a pair of sneakers, attached to feet. I slowly looked up, and got a blast of light in the face for my trouble. The stranger flicked their flashlight away from my eyes momentarily, allowing me to take some of their appearance in.

The first thing I noticed was that they were a she. A girl about my age, with khaki shorts and an orange tank-top that looked to have been a T-shirt before the sleeves were cut off. Her exposed arms were tan and muscular, and her face might have been pretty if it wasn't stuck on 'snarl'. Her hand went up and brushed some of her auburn hair away from piercing amber eyes, and her expression changed. It was still a snarl, but time spent with Lupa and her wolves had taught me the ins and outs of snarling. It was an amused expression, like a predator who meant to smile but hadn't enough practice to do so.

"Nice landing," she commented. "Maybe the harpies'll use you for comedy instead of brunch for being out after curfew."

"I appreciate your assessment." I groaned, massaging my sternum. "How did you get me out so quickly?"

She shook her head and pointed into the lake. The head of a girl not unlike the one standing over me, but with softer features and more intact clothing, had poked out from under the surface. She was massaging her face gingerly, and I could tell she had a broken nose. I remembered that I had kicked out at something during my panic, and immediately felt a horrible wave of guilt. She'd saved me from drowning, and I had broken her nose. Way to make an impression.

I sat up, intending to apologize, but she seemed to spot something nearby that caused her to yelp in panic and dive down into the lake. I looked around, but there was only me and the Tank Top Wonder. Who, it appeared, was looking at what _I_ was wearing with sudden interested...and displeasure.

"Nice shirt," she snapped. I couldn't tell whether it was an actual compliment or an angry statement. "Where'd you get it?"

"Standard issue," I said cautiously. "Why is yours _orange_?"

"Standard issue," she replied. "Except mine's the one that counts around here."

"Who _are_ you?" I asked.

She took a step back and, to my bemusement, shifted her grip on the flashlight like it was a weapon. "Pola Reese. Daughter of Ares."

I was about to ask why her name was 'pole' when her second sentence hit me. "_Ares_?" I sounded as incredulous as I felt. "You mean Mars."

She shook her head. "Nope. I mean Ares. And you picked a really weird time to show up, Roman Boy."

I felt an adrenaline rush hit. I hated those with a burning passion. All of my higher brain function went out the window, including pretty much every piece of trivia I knew. At that point, I could only fathom that I was both officially in enemy territory and in extreme danger. I also happened to be unarmed, dazed, and possibly enchanted. All in all, not the best odds.

Pole must have seen the shift in my stance, because she spun her flashlight back to a neutral position and chuckled. "You don't want to tussle with me, guy. Take the hike out of your panties so we can get to the bottom of this. Chiron's gonna want to talk to you, and-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you, _graecus_." I spat. My mind raced, trying to figure out how to get out of this. Perhaps if I went back into the lake, it would send me to Camp Jupiter?

My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain across my face. A blunt object had struck me solidly, and Pole's new position indicated she'd just caught something. I looked at the flashlight. Had she just used it as a boomerang?

"I'm pretty sure that was an insult." She said coolly. "And I know my insults. But I don't really like them. Not leveled at me, anyway. You wanna cool your heels, or do I have to hit you again?"

Like an idiot, I charged. She stepped to one side, letting me rush past like a dazed bull. I had just enough time to mull over how lame it was to be beaten by someone using a flashlight before I found myself unconscious for the second time in what was, from my perspective, about five minutes.


	3. 3 - I Deliver a Purple-Clad Package

**Pola**

* * *

For the record, Ryan is the stupidest smart guy I've ever met. Even back then, he didn't get the whole 'pick your battles' thing. I guess maybe he thought a glorious last charge into certain death was the way to go, which I'm cool with, but every time I ask, he just blushes and mutters something about flashlights.

Speaking of, 'sup. I'm Polemos Reese, your other narrator. Just call me Pola or I'll beat you with literally anything at hand. See, I'm odd-out with the Ares kids. I'm not _super_ strong, or fast, I don't really do tactics, and I'm not as aggressive. But don't tell anyone that, or I'll find you.

But what I _do_ have is this little gift from Ares' more modern side. I'm really good with weapons. Daggers, guns, halberds, tree branches. You name it, and if you can swing it, I can use it. I don't just mean like how any idiot can chuck a baseball bat at somebody, I mean when I pick up a weapon, it's like I can use it right away like I've been training with it for years.

Some of the smart alecks in the audience probably just asked what happens if I have to fight without any weapons on me. _Shut up_, that's what.

Back to the lake. I didn't really know what to think about this Roman dude showing up on Camp Half-Blood's doorstep. I mean, the only one I'd ever even heard of was Jason, and he was a pretty cool guy. But apparently he was the exception, because I thought I was being pretty nice until this intruder dork started calling me a 'gray cuss'. Which I figured meant he was kind of dumb _and_ colorblind.

So I hit him in the face with a flashlight. I didn't really aim; I trusted my arm to do its job, and it worked pretty well. The little bundle of plastic went out in an arc, bounced off his head, and came back to my hand like I was wearing a magnet. If magnets attracted plastic. Whatever. Then he charged me. It was a bold move, but he had no idea what he was doing, and Clarisse would've killed me if I'd let a crazy Roman trundle on past and start wrecking the camp. So I knocked him out and that was that.

I made a comment to him about curfew...well, I wasn't exactly in the green, either. I came down to the lake most nights just to get away from the cabin for a while. For all their bluster, the harpies knew better than to tangle with me. I made it a really bad secret that I made sure to have celestial bronze knives on me at all times. I didn't, but they knew my rep, so they kept clear.

I admit seeing him getting blown out of the water by a naiad and then get clonked on the head twice with a flashlight was funny, but I had to get him to Chiron, stat. The last time a Roman showed up, it was big news, and my thought was that it had to be at least as big the second time around. I put him in a fireman's carry, which was easy since he was so skinny, and marched toward the Big House on the other side of camp.

When I passed the big omega symbol that the cabins were shaped like, I stopped. Hestia was poking the fire in the center of the place, as usual. When I first came to camp, I was pretty much just a scared kid, not the badass I am now, but Hestia kept me company my first night and told me stories about the old times. Listening to her could take all night, because you got so wrapped up in what she was saying. I guess stories by the fireside are just part of her domain.

I stopped and turned around. Then my head snapped back. The gods were silent, locked up in Olympus. No way that was Hestia. I shifted my cargo to a position that was just a little more comfortable and stomped up. "Who are you?" I demanded.

In the firelight, her face looked like something out of an alien movie. Instead of a mouth, she had a long beak and long feathers that I thought were hair at first. Both were flaming orange, but her eyes were a deep purple. She smiled at me, which I couldn't understand, since people with beaks shouldn't be able to do that. "No more a stranger here than you are, child." Her voice was raspy, like...like a rasp. I dunno, they don't pay me for awesome similes.

"Can you tone down the cryptic?" I asked. "Tonight's already sliding downhill for me."

"I am a messenger, and possibly a friend." Well, that cleared everything right up. "I suggest you listen well, as you haven't much time."

"You're right there." I said. "Hey, there's plenty of room on my shoulders if you're some kind of weird Roman apparition, too."

She chuckled. "Oh no, I'm as Greek as can be. With touches of other places, of course, but that's neither here nor there."

"Kaaaaaay." I drawled. "I'm officially listening. You've got as long as a legendarily short attention span gives you." It was true; I'd be a headcase in the mortal world, but loads of ADHD was just part of the program as a demigod. Thank Zeus I don't have dyslexia like some of the other kids do.

"The oracle will not be able to help you, but I can." She turned and I could swear she inhaled some of the fire. "You must go to the land of the lost and retrieve an ally who knows much of what is to come."

"So, when I said 'tone down the cryptic'..."

"Reese!"

That tone was familiar. I picked some real choicey swear words to mutter in sequence and turned on my heel. Sure enough, there was Big Sister Clarisse, with Lamer II - that is to say, the second spear she used called 'Maimer'; the first one got snapped killing a drakon (long story) - in her hand. She looked ready to smack me for the fifth time that week. I glanced back at the fireplace, but bird girl was gone. That was more than a little disturbing.

Clarisse got within five feet of me and hissed, "What are you doing outside at three in the morning?!"

"Taking a leisurely stroll, getting some sand in my toes, counting stars." I deadpanned. So I'm a smartass; given where I live, it's practically a survival skill.

Little Miss Serious didn't look amused, big surprise. "I ought to tie you to the top of the cabin with just Marvin for company until lunch tomorrow." Marvin's what we named the severed boar's head nailed above the door to Cabin Five. Don't ask.

"That'll give Chiron a coronary, since I'm about to see him." I tapped a Roman head that was hung over my shoulder.

Clarisse's eyes traced a line from his head to his shirt, the color of which was obvious so close to the fire. They widened, and I could see her knuckles going white around Lamer. "Another one?"

"Yeah, the lake just spit him out like a rotten burrito." I shrugged. "So I thought maybe it was a bit important." She reached out and I took an instinctive step back. "Ah ah ah. Mystical significance dibs, Clarisse. He got sent to me, I'm carrying him."

She didn't look happy about that. I heard her darkly mutter some phrases that I immediately jotted down in a mental notebook where I put all of my swear words. It's pretty comprehensive, I'm super proud. "Let's get going then."

"What, you don't trust me to settle this myself?" I asked.

"No." Ahh, family.

We had to cross the bridge to the other side of the river that led to the lake, and I could swear that one naiad followed us the whole way, but it didn't take long to arrive at the Big House. True to its name, it was, well, big. Baby blue, two stories, and a pretty homey feel to it. I was pretty familiar with the layout, since it was also where they put the infirmary, and I've been there way more than I'd like to admit.

It wasn't anybody's living space but Chiron's, though, since Mr. D vacated the place when Zeus recalled him and the other gods. Which meant, since we were here to _see_ Chiron, we didn't exactly have to play it stealthy. After a few rapid knocks, the door opened, and a bleary-eyed older guy with thick brown hair to his head to his chin and a look that screamed 'history teacher' looked up at us from his wheelchair.

"Pola? Clarisse?" He muttered. "It's three in the morning. I'm afraid adjudication of one of your matches will have to wait..." It didn't take long after he saw the Roman kid for his face to get super dark, a look that kind of made me happy, but not in a schadenfreude way. Usually when he looked like that, it meant trouble, which meant monsters, which meant a huge fight with lots of laurels.

What? I said I was a _little_ less heavy on the aggro than my cabinmates, not a freaking pacifist.

"You had best step inside." Chiron sighed. "Clarisse, we will need Rachel here, as well. This is the start of a very long morning for all of us."


	4. 4 - We Get Some Bad News

**Pola**

* * *

Our little improvised meeting was held in the Big House's game room, the only place in there that I'd never been, since it was off-limits if you weren't a Cabin leader, usually. It didn't look like much, but the ping-pong table was a nice touch to double as a meeting zone, and there were snacks involved, so I was hooked.

I propped the Roman up in an empty chair close to the table, and I wanted to stick a party hat on him, too, but Chiron wouldn't let me. I guess he wanted this to be a private meetup, because when Clarisse came back with a bleary-eyed oracle behind her, Chiron didn't miss a beat.

Rachel was a mortal who came in on the world of the gods during the Titan War. Apparently she could see through the Mist (which is this weird magical stuff that makes mortals think monsters and explosions are completely kosher and which no one's ever really explained in detail to me) and took up a job as the camp's oracle, something no one had done in like, forever. She was pretty normal, if snappy (which I personally liked), and sometimes she glowed green and spoke in rhyming couplets about great danger or whatever. All I knew about _that_ was that I didn't get to go on quests, and that cheesed me off.

"It seems, despite a part of the prophecy coming to fruition, or so we assumed, there are still events surrounding...our counterparts that we are not privy to." Chiron paused. "I can only guess as to what this means for us-"

"Declaration of war, probably." Clarisse broke in. "They tried to send us a spy, probably because the mission failed."

"He's not a very good spy, then." Rachel noted. "Do they even have reason to attack us? The Argo II only left a week ago, and I doubt they messed up _that_ catastrophically in the meantime."

"I fear the answers to most of our questions lie with our new guest." Chiron said. "Until he-"

Literally a second after he said that, Roman guy woke up with a jolt and fell out of his chair, and the crash knocked a few balls off the ping-pong table. It might've just been my imagination, but I was pretty sure I could hear the Fates laughing, too.

He got up pretty quickly, rubbing his head and muttering, "_Quid in inferno...?_" Then he spotted four of us Greeks chilling nearby with expressions going from trying to hide a smile (Rachel) to quietly bemused (Chiron) to wanting to put him back under (Clarisse). Me, I was somewhere between all three of those.

It was too easy. I nodded at him casually. "'Sup?"

"I understand this must be confusing for you." Chiron said. "I must ask you to remain calm, however, so that we might reach an understanding."

Apparently he was a way better diplomat than I was, like that's hard, because the guy didn't bolt. He was looking at us like he was trying to gauge who he'd have the best shot of getting past. I was pretty smug when he didn't look my way for longer than a half second. Me and my flashlight had apparently made more than one kind of impression.

I guess he decided that even Rachel and an old man in a wheelchair were too much trouble, because he took a step back instead of forward. "I'm listening." He sounded pretty nervous, but he was holding himself steady. I chalked it up to training instead of whatever he had going for him, though. No need to give him too much credit.

"We have had experiences with those like you in this camp before..." Chiron went on. "Demigods from far away locales."

"You're the same camp that abducted Jason Grace, aren't you?" His eyes widened.

"We didn't abduct him." Rachel said quickly. "He was sent here by Hera...you'd know her as Juno."

Roman boy shook his head. "Why would Juno send him here? For that matter, why would he then attack us?"

That one left us pretty stunned. "Attack you?" Chiron asked. "To what do you refer?"

"It was only a few days ago." Romes explained. "A massive flying war ship crossed the borders into our territory, carrying a host of Greeks...and Jason. Mere minutes after we welcomed them with open arms, they fired on us, and then three of our own defected!"

Everybody on our side of the table exchanged looks with everybody else. "Oookaaaay." Rachel said. "I guess they _could_ mess up that catastrophically in the meantime."

"We assure you; that was not their intent." Chiron said. "Theirs was a diplomatic mission-"

Romes actually laughed. But it was more like a long choking squeak. "A diplomatic mission that ended with explosions and a full medical ward? Really?"

"Hey." Clarisse snapped her fingers. "Wake-up call in case you forgot what war is. If we wanted to knock your camp down, don't you think we'd have sent more than one warship and four people?"

"More to the point, if they already had a praetor as an abductee, why would they want three more of the legion? And why would they come willingly?" Rachel asked.

"If we had Grace as a POW and he was alright working with us then why would we need to attack you in the first place?" I concluded.

I guess that put his mind at work a little too hard, because his answer was: "...You're Greeks."

Clarisse reached over to pick up a ping-pong paddle so coolly that I honestly had no idea whether she planned to hit him or one of the balls. I drew my flashlight and Rachel, for some reason, got out a blue plastic hairbrush. To each their own, I guess. It's not like me and my dollar-store glowing implement were much better.

"Enough." Chiron said firmly, although he looked kind of annoyed, too. "Violence, especially here, solves nothing. In truth, little is as it seems..." He looked at R.B. expectantly.

He took a moment to think about it. "Ryan."

Then Chiron looked at us. In descending order of reluctance, Clarisse, me, and Rachel introduced ourselves. Chiron put a hand over his chest and said, "Chiron. I think it would be best to deliberate upon this matter in the morning. In the meantime, I can assure you that we wish only cooperation between ourselves and our Latin counterparts. A threat greater than any of us stands on the horizon, and we will need to full strength of the gods to defeat it."

"Well you're going to need better diplomats," Ryan said caustically. "Because the Twelfth Legion is going to be marching towards Manhattan starting on Tuesday."

That didn't worry me so much. "I guess they aren't _that_ mad. What about the other eleven?"

Ryan looked at me like I'd said something stupid. "The other eleven haven't existed since Ancient Rome. The Twelfth comprises our _entire_ array of forces."

On the one hand, awesome! A big fight! On the other, oh great, we actually need these idiots.

"As I said, we will discuss it at a later time." Chiron sounded a little more shaken up about it than I was. "Are you comfortable staying here in the interim?"

Ryan rolled his shoulders back and frowned. "I'm not really comfortable anywhere around here, but I'll do it if it means my safety. Whatever that comprises anymore."

I wasn't really stoked about leaving him in the Big House overnight, even if that was only a couple of hours, but then again, it would be with Chiron and Argus as his watchmen, and that I could deal with.

On our way out, Rachel seemed to be in a way better mood than anyone else. "Well," she said. "At least we know one thing."

"Romans are crazy?" I offered.

"You didn't catch it, did you?" Clarisse was the one who answered, and she wasn't nearly as happy about it as Rachel. "Three Romans left with the Argo II. That means all seven demigods of the prophecy are in the same place."

Well, I figured that meant they were having a nice time almost dying and fighting a lot and probably talking about their personal problems. Our biggest show for the next few months was a horde of Romans. Which meant a long time prepping and lots of agonizing over the fight way before the actual fight. Woo hoo.

It wasn't like there was another freaking quest coming our way or anything.

Hah. Spoiler alert.


	5. V - Lunchtime

**Ryan**

* * *

To put it mildly, I didn't sleep well that night. Morning. Whichever. I had a cot to myself in the hospice that Chiron or whoever had built the building implemented into its design, but it wasn't overly comfortable, not that it was a problem for me. I'd slept in less glamorous conditions, but it had been a long time since I had done so without anyone nearby. I was normally accustomed to the various murmurings and sounds that accompanied a roomful of my comrades during the off-hours, and while I never actually thought I would, given the chance, I realized that I missed them.

Perhaps not the annoyances themselves, naturally, but more the meaningfulness inherent in a home. Whether or not I always approved of them or enjoyed their company, the legions of Camp Jupiter were my family, and I felt starkly alone and even afraid without them by my side.

As these thoughts made themselves a sticky nest in my mind, I attempted to shake myself of them. Were Lupa there, I have no doubts the she-wolf would have nipped me behind the ear for doling out so much cowardice. The thought gave me strength, somehow, and I began to consider my options from a tactical perspective, which I rarely did.

I was in hostile territory, certainly - I didn't put any stock in the _graeci's_ promises for a minute - but more importantly, I was stuck there. I didn't even know where I was, and I doubted they would let me wander out of their sight, so escape was out of the question. As was a noble death (there was that cowardice factor again). So I decided, to make myself feel better, that I would play along. Apparently they thought me an asset, not that I would oblige them, and it made me valuable enough not to dispose of.

As of that moment, it was my only hope. And it didn't exactly lull me into proper rest.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, though, because I opened my eyes to daylight streaming through a few nearby windows. While I was out, someone had bandaged my head and left a small plate on a table next to me. On it was a very small square of some bright gold material that I recognized as ambrosia, food of the gods and instant medicine for their children.

I gobbled it up instantly. The possibility of it being poisoned never entered my mind. You couldn't actually poison ambrosia, nor could you fake it. The result was always too gold or not gold enough, and had the wrong texture. A curse, I supposed, so that demigods would never be fooled into death. At least not in that very specific way.

When the ambrosia touched my tongue, the material gave way to the taste and scent of freshly-baked biscuits and a fine, rich gravy. Warmth spread from my skull to my fingertips, and I was suddenly awash in fond memories. The first time I ever had ambrosia, I had fallen onto a spear during a training drill and they had to cart me to the medical facilities with all haste. I was mostly delirious at the time, but I remember the ambrosia vividly.

Before that point, I'd never had biscuits and gravy in my life, but at that moment, it had turned into my favorite food. I reminded me, in a roundabout way, of the home I'd never really had up until camp. My friends in the Fourth Cohort had probably made a batch for me the previous day at dinner, too, or would have. That thought made a bad situation even worse. I suppose the ambrosia made up for it a little, even though it was fleeting and came at the cost of being hit with a flashlight.

I heard a soft noise like coconuts being pressed together repeatedly, and Chiron trotted into the room. Yes, _trotted_. As in, from the waist down, he was now a white horse, which I suppose made him look more impressive and less like an old codger.

(It is _too_ a word, Pola.)

I suppose that sounds mean. Well, too bad. At that moment, I was absolutely certain I was going to die in various particularly painful ways. I'd heard numerous stories about centaurs, and none of them were pleasant. Of course, the horse-man in question acted like nothing was wrong. "Good morning." He told me politely. Please.

My brain works about ten times faster than my mouth with no connection at all, though, so instead of unleashing a tirade, I just said, "You're a horse."

Chiron looked like he wanted to be amused by that, but there were other things on his mind. "A centaur, actually. I hope you enjoyed what sleep was available, but I think we have to be getting on. We should discuss the details of your stay before lunchtime ends."

"Lunch?" I asked. "What time is it?"

"It is approaching noontide as we speak."

That probably shocked me more than it should have. In the legion, it was all 'early risers' this and 'specific waking hours' that. In the Fourth, I'd never once slept in, whether by choice or by order. And now it was noon, meaning I'd probably slept for five hours and definitely slept four hours past my standard.

I stood up and unwrapped my bandages. The lump was gone, likely due to the ambrosia, and I wasn't as dizzy as I had been the night previous. That all was good enough for me, and I wanted to see what exciting death my captors had planned.

XXX

If it's always heralded by pizza and barbeque, I could really get used to the whole 'death' concept. Our first stop was the mess hall, a large building (for lack of a better term) that was more a group of tables surrounded by Greek columns atop a flat section of stone. It was passable, I suppose, but I had to wonder what they did if it ever rained.

To my consternation, a certain child of Ares was waiting for us there. She was holding a glass of some pink substance in one hand and a sandwich made of everything including the kitchen sink in the other. When she saw me, her brow furrowed, as though she didn't quite know what to make of me, although I'd thought that issue settled quite thoroughly the previous night.

As it turned out, Rachel, one of the captors I'd been ever-so-pleased to meet before, was also there, but off to the side, conversing with an East Indian man (and I say man only because he was ever so slightly too old to be considered a boy) who I noted didn't seem overly pleased with whatever she was telling him. After a few moments, he picked up a long staff that had been leaning against and adjacent table and glided away. _Literally_ glided, as the winds picked up around him in a barely-visible miniature cyclone.

The display left Rachel's hair a mess, but she didn't seem to mind, and approached directly after. I had been so enamored, in fact, that I didn't notice Pola had asked me something until Chiron cleared his throat to get my attention.

"What?" I asked.

"I _said_, where are you gonna sit?" Pola repeated. "Who's your godly parent?"

I mumbled my response so unintelligibly that I had to repeat it to them. "I don't know."

All three of them looked concerned. I hated that. I knew quite well how unusual it was for a demigod of my age to go unclaimed, thanks very much. Then came the inevitable question...

"How old are you?"

I sighed. "Fifteen, as of yesterday." I almost said 'today', but then I forcibly reminded myself that I'd missed about a dozen hours.

Rachel shook her head. "This is bad."

"Feel free to rub salt on the wound." I snapped.

She looked taken aback. "I didn't..."

"Hey, check your attitude, _romaikos_, you didn't come with a brochure." Pola said.

Chiron intervened before I got myself knocked out again. "Enough. You may not need to be reminded of the circumstances, but they bear mentioning. Do you have any idea who they may be?"

I shook my head. "Not a clue."

"You should be claimed later tonight, at the campfire." Rachel said slowly. "That's the tradition for the past year or so."

"And who claims me?" I asked miserably. "My Roman parent, or the Greek version?"

It was a principle I had learned early in my life; all myths being held equal, there were various amounts of truth to each one. I guessed that since I was in a camp full of Greek demigods, they must be children of the Greek pantheon. And if that was the case, then the Roman and Greek gods would be separate...but they were mostly the same people, albeit with different names and methods.

So, naturally, the thought of being claimed by someone like Demeter or Zeus or (gods forbid) Ares instead of the proper Roman gods didn't make me feel better.

"It is doubtful that the Greek pantheon would recognize you as one of their own." Chiron said ponderously. "But I do not know if their Roman halves are allowed to claim you inside the camp's borders. I suppose we shall see."

"That's pretty harsh." To my surprise, Pola actually sounded regretful, past the cockiness and posturing. "They can't even send some kind of sign down, maybe a hint?"

Chiron's gaze drifted off into space. "The Romans are not my area of expertise. I know not how they operate under normal circumstances, and ours are anything but normal. But the gods send signs quite often. We may not recognize them as such, but they are there."

I half-expected Rachel's question before she actually asked it. "Well, what are your talents?"

"I read." I answered tonelessly. "And remember things."

"Sounds like Athena to me." Pola offered. "Maybe Hecate, if you can hold on to the magic stuff, too."

"Athena?" I asked.

"You would know her as Minerva." Chiron clarified.

I was too shocked to even think of being sarcastic. "The _virgin_ goddess?"

Pola scratched her head. "Yeah, actually, how does that even work?"

Chiron coughed. "Suffice it to say that it is, in fact, possible, though I admit it may be unique to her Greek aspect."

I shook my head. "I've never seen or heard of a child of Minerva in my camp. So that's probably it. You mentioned someone else?"

Rachel nodded. "Hecate, the goddess of magic. You might be able to read spells as well as you do books."

"Never heard of her." I said. "Does she have a Roman aspect?"

"I do not believe so." Chiron said. "It is more accurate to say that she has a Roman _equivalent_."

"Trivia." I realized. The name certainly fit, but the person behind it worried me. Trivia wasn't known for being..._pleasant_. I wasn't certain that I was willing to live up to the standard of hexing people in particularly gruesome ways if I was annoyed. I was more than capable of fighting the _Greeks_ (stop laughing, Pola), but with steel, not magic.

Chiron and I were the only ones overly subdued during lunchtime. Rachel went elsewhere, and Pola joined a table of particularly rowdy individuals who bore a passing resemblance to each other. I assumed that this Cohort was dominated by children of Ares, which would make sense, tactically. Then I noted that there were quite a few more than five tables, and they seemed to have anywhere from more than a dozen campers to just one or two among them.

"Why are your Cohorts so divided?" I asked Chiron.

"We do not distribute campers into Cohorts." He replied. "They are assigned cabins based on their godly parent." I noticed that his voice fell somewhat during the tail end of his statement. As though he recognized how that might look to me. From my perspective, it much appeared as though everything about this camp was designed to offend me, specifically.

And not for the first time, I wondered whose idea it was to bring me here.


	6. VI - Flagging Resolve

**Ryan**

* * *

It took about five minutes for me to decide that I was not going to like my stay at this camp. It wasn't so much the people, the décor, or the activities involved, but everything felt so _alien_ that I was, well, alienated at every turn. It wasn't for lack of trying on the part of the campers, though.

Apparently no one told them I was Roman, because aside from a few strange glances my way when I joined Chiron at his own table instead of the Mercury table (their cabin was apparently where unclaimed campers apparently stayed under normal circumstances), they didn't act like anything was wrong. In a way, I envied them. Better to think life was all well than be a nervous wreck looking death in the eye like I was.

Even worse was the actual food. I was told that the dining glasses could produce any drink I commanded, but I wasn't very thirsty. Then I noted that, among other things, my table had a selection of what appeared to be freshly baked biscuits. On a whim, I told my glass to produce gravy. Chiron looked at me oddly, probably thinking that I meant to drink it whole. I was a bit disappointed by it—the gravy was a little runny, probably a replica of the canned bits you get at Costco or some such place.

Struck by an inspiration, though, I issued my command again, more specifically. "_My_ gravy." The beige mixture thickened considerably, and I could smell the buttery aftertaste. I piled my plate high with biscuits and fairly drowned them with my new condiment, then took a bite. Delicious. I supposed my birthday wasn't entirely spoiled after all.

I dashed that thought from my mind almost immediately, frightened. I _refused_ to go native. I had a dedication to the Roman way to uphold. Whether or not the Greeks appeared to be the monsters I had grown up believing they were, I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that they were just waiting for me to follow that line of thought. The moment I felt secure in their presence, I would pay the price—and so would Camp Jupiter. I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't good at much, but I could do this.

After lunch, Chiron—and, to my surprise, Pola—offered me a tour of the surroundings. I privately maintained my suspicions (and refused point-blank to be led anywhere that looked a prime location for an ambush), but I couldn't well pass up the chance for a little intel, could I?

I was, on the whole, mildly impressed by their setup. It was nothing compared to my camp, of course, but it had its own charm. I knew that the Greeks placed more faith in the efforts of a small band of heroes as opposed to an entire legion, and how they trained reflected this. A few bands, mostly groups of friends or half-siblings, gathered in different areas for different tasks. Grudge matches were overseen carefully in the dueling area while others simply practiced swordplay, pairs of older and more experienced campers tried their hands at the lava-spewing rock climbing wall, and multiple teams of canoers seemed to be in the lake at all times.

All that was pushing aside things like the pegasi stables, the armory, and the forest. The forest caught my attention when Chiron told me that we wouldn't be entering it. Apparently, despite being within the borders of their camp, it was dangerous, and only well-prepared groups were allowed in on business.

"You might see it at some point, though." Pola noted with a knowing smile. It was about then that I figured their plan was to drag me into the forest and let some beast kill me, to allow them to maintain plausible deniability. It was only at that point the logical part of my brain kicked in, and all of my paranoid thoughts stopped for a moment. If they planned to kill me, why not there and then? It wasn't as though they had to fear reprisal from the other campers. And if they had wanted to interrogate me, why hadn't they done so more thoroughly?

I began to have serious doubts as to their intentions. Was it possible that they were telling the truth about a greater threat? How was I to know that they didn't legitimately need my help, and the help of all my fellows? We had faced the worst, I thought, during the Titan War, but we all knew that darkest beings lay in wait from the old legends. You should know me well enough by now to not be at all surprised that I've read about them quite often.

It wasn't until late that afternoon that our tour ended, and all the assembled campers (plus me) made their way back to the mess hall…or dining pavilion, if you prefer. Then I noted that everyone was armed. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Get suited up, new kid." Pola said. "We're gonna capture the flag."

All of my goodwill went out the window. To my surprise, I looked desperately to Chiron, who appeared unconcerned. "You are versed in combat, I assume?" He asked.

"Well yes, but is this the best idea?" I said.

"I have my doubts, admittedly, but there are worse ways to know a group of people than riding into battle with them." He stroked his beard in thought.

"That, and are you really gonna miss a good shot at showing us Greeks what's what?" It was the challenge in Pola's voice that put me over the edge. All she knew about me was that I was vulnerable to flashlights. But I carried the training and might of the Twelfth Legion behind me, and it was high time she learned exactly what that meant.

"You're on." I growled, which seemed to please her.

"We will have healers standing by." Chiron noted. "There is to be no intentional maiming, and we do our best not to kill."

"That you have to specify that worries me deeply." I said, apparently having regained whatever bit of me handled dry wit and sarcasm at some indeterminate part of the afternoon.

I didn't know what their plan was, but I didn't feel any guilt in playing along, this once. Pola had been right; I wanted to show them what I was made of.

I grabbed a set of leather armor dyed red, to signify my team. I didn't take a helmet, which was a bad choice, admittedly, but there were none in my size and even if there were, they didn't have proper plumes. They might look ridiculous to you, but to me, it was a standard that I was more than happy to live with.

They didn't stock any sort of _gladius_, so I helped myself to a javelin. When I came out of the armory, all of the campers were watching me. Most of them looked caught between respect and fear, and I didn't quite understand why. Then I realized what my choice in gear signified. What kind of a hardcore, intensely skilled soldier was I, to emerge so confidently with only light armor and a single half-spear?

The Roman kind.

I joined the other campers in red while Chiron explained the rules. I knew the basics of capture the flag, so I spent most of my time coming up with plans. I realized that this gave me a golden opportunity – if I could capture the image I had recently donned, I might be able to command my team. If I knew anything about the Greeks from what I had seen so far, they were ferocious, but largely undisciplined. They preferred small ambushes or one-on-one fights. How, I wondered, would they fare against a coordinated unit?

I had never come even close to being in line for command of the Fourth Cohort, and I knew quite well that, in all likelihood, I couldn't lead my way out of a paper bag. But they didn't know that. What was more, while I didn't have a grasp on charisma, exactly, I knew my way around a battlefield. Tactical maneuvers were standard among the Legion, but I had gone above and beyond. _The Art of War_._No Hero_. _The Iliad_ (ironically enough). If it had even a slight mention of battles and combat assessments, I had read through it.

The real problem was implementing any of what I'd learned. I knew from experience that most of my memories would die in the adrenaline wave when we reached the battlefield. I needed to take my moments of planning while I could.

Just as I expected, when we reached our setup point in the forest, most of them looked to me. I saw a few of Pola's siblings from the Mars cabin muttering amongst themselves, but the daughter of war in question was not with them. She was with the others, looking at me as though awaiting orders. I did a quick head count and found that I had about thirty soldiers in all. No cavalry, but at least they had a decent selection of weapons. I didn't hurt for archers, hoplites, or simple sword-and-board frontliners.

I silently prayed to Juno, Jupiter, Apollo, Venus, Mars…well, fairly the entire pantheon that I wouldn't screw this up. "All right, listen up." Thankfully, my voice didn't break. It wasn't as strong as I wanted it to be, but I felt that if I built up momentum, that would come on its own.

"I know most of you lack unit cohesion and there isn't much time to work on it. However, before we begin, we'll work on the basics. This is important." Someone snickered nearby, and I pointed in their direction. "Good, a volunteer. Step forward."

That shut them up, and a scruffy teenager with greasy black hair, a son of Mars, stood in front of me. He was easily a foot taller and much bulkier than I was, but I looked him in the eyes. "When we fight, we fight as a unit." I motioned another camper up. Both of them used a sword and shield, and I showed them how to set up the shield in front of them.

"This is stupid." The Ares camper muttered. "How am I supposed to clobber a guy if my shield is in the way?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I guided the duo so that they were as close to each other as they could be without hindering their mobility. I had them get into the habit of swinging in time to the other's motions. "When your shield-mate is pulling their sword back, you need to be in the process of striking. Is everyone getting all of this?"

There was a series of nods, but I was paying attention to Pola. Her face was inscrutable. At any rate, I figured that it was enough. I didn't want to give them too many trade secrets, and this new unit should have been enough to carry it through.

My heart pounded as I formed fifteen of the campers on my side into a column. Three-by-five, with a hole in the middle. I had Pola stand there, in the center of the formation. The plan was that they would walk into enemy territory, steal the flag, and march back. I was gambling on two things. First, that the other Greeks would have no idea what to do with a Roman column formation. And second, that my troops wouldn't mess up badly enough to botch what should have been a simple exercise.

I watch them pound off into the brush, glad not to be among them. I would be of more use to the defenders anyway. I looked around. I had two more melee specialists and everyone else was an archer of some kind. I realized that almost every Apollo camper on my team was there, and they looked fairly calm.

"You think it'll work?" One of the archers asked. Like most of them, he was taller than me, and all of the Apollo cabinmates seemed to look to him for guidance, so I assumed he was in charge of their Cohort. Nevermind that cabins and Cohorts aren't really interchangeable; I'll think in those terms anyway, blast it.

I imagine something in my expression must have said 'heck no, but we're doing it anyway!', but I nodded. "They'll follow through." I had all of the archers spread out to the sides, both up in and behind trees, or crouched behind the brush. Just outside the field of view of anyone coming from where my main team had left. The two footsoldiers and I formed a triangle with me at its head and stood in front of the flag. I didn't like being bait, but I was optimizing my contributions.

Sure enough, a small group was the first to arrive. Four of them, all with swords, but only one had a shield. They were even more ragtag than I expected. flipped on in my brain, and I slammed the butt of my spear into the dirt. "You're late." I told them imperiously.

They glanced at each other and charged. They got within ten feet of me before the archers brought them down with strategic placement of blunt arrows. I probably flinched, but I didn't much care. Everything was going well on our end so far.

It was so peaceful, in fact, that we barely even noticed when the game was called.


	7. 7 - I Have a Sibling Rivalry

**Pola**

* * *

Wow, thanks for the anticlimax, _Ryan_.

Not that I really mind. At least now I get to take the reins and tell everyone how _awesome_ I was being while you were standing around next to your flag.

See, some people like to overcomplicate capture the flag, but most of the time, the teams just charge each other and duke it out. This time was only different because our odds were two to one. I had serious doubts that the five-minute version of Roman combat training would do us any good, but our formation was pretty solid. We marched in sequence, with me in the middle of fifteen soldiers carting swords or spears and shields. It was pretty cool, actually. Not that I'd ever tell Ryan that.

Our objective was pretty simple. Get the flag, huddle around whoever kept a grip on it, and make it as far as the river. In practice, it wasn't that neat.

Thanks to all the time _someone_ spent sitting around and talking, we barely made it a couple hundred feet before we ran straight into the main force. A couple of guys peeled off past us, but with all the archers we left behind, I wasn't worried so much about them.

About the twenty-five guys in front of us with Clarisse and Lamer II (I wondered where she kept getting those electric spears) at their head…yeah. A little more pressing. They were pretty disorganized, but that didn't matter as much as you'd think. Most of them were looking at us like we'd dropped off the moon. Big sis glared at us, and I could tell she recognized the formation.

"You can't organize a solid phalanx with just fifteen people." She said simply.

"Not a phalanx." I said. "Manipular, but without the skirmishing bit." I mean, we _had_ the 'javelins' to do that with, but no backups. Our boys and girls would be running away with nothing but armor. Not so great.

"That's stupid." Clarisse shook her head.

"_You're_ stupid." I said, and chucked what was basically a tomahawk at them. Not my best line, but it got the point across.

Let me take a moment to tell you about what I was wearing. When I go into a fight, I don't pick a set of weapons. I take _all_ of them. I had knives, stones, and slingshots up my sleeves, axes and swords strapped to my waist (held together by a ghetto belt that doubled as a chain), plus a bow, a bigger axe, and a spear on my back.

Okay, yeah, it was super hard to move in, but there's nothing I hate more than going into a fight unarmed. Plus it wasn't like I needed armor with all of the weaponry shot-blocking like it was. At best, I just had to pack some sturdy pants.

The guy I hit with my tomahawk took the blunt side to the face and went down. Everyone took that as an order to charge, and the whole place basically devolved into a brawl. Luckily, my guys had the sense to keep formation, but there was no way I could help out a Manipular group with the gear I was carting. So I got myself out of dodge. Most of the other side went for the biggest threat (I guess they didn't think it was me, the punks), leaving me one-on-three outside a big cluster of violence.

I drew a sword and slipped a dagger from my left sleeve, dropping into a fencing stance. You know that move Obi-Wan pulled in Episode III, the stupid-looking pose where he drops his main sword-hand back behind his head and puts his exposed fist in front? This was like that, but I knew instinctively that I was doing it properly. Namely, I actually had a weapon in both hands.

The idea is to parry an attack quickly with the dagger and thrust with the sword when I had my attacker off guard. Great for duels. I never tried it against three guys at once, but then, there's a first time for everything. The first to charge was Sherman, one of my half-brothers. He had an axe.

It wasn't like I had a lot of time to compose a poem about how the wind ruffled the plumes of his helmet, okay? I stepped a little to the side and knocked the axe out of his hand, but he came in too close for a follow-up, so I just punched him in the face. He went sprawling, and Malcolm, Athena cabin's new replacement counselor, took the opportunity to try and knock me in the ribs from the right side with what was either a club or a mace.

Well, I had another big ol' knife up my right sleeve, so I just dropped my arm and let the weapon rebound off of my little surprise. It stung, but it made a pretty good gauntlet. I tossed the knife I actually had in my hand at the third guy, whose name I was pretty sure was Michelle.

(Ryan tells me it was probably Michel, like the French name. I don't really care.)

Michelle had to duck and ruin his flanking maneuver, which gave me the opportunity to step back and swipe the air above Malcolm's head. He went low, and I grabbed a rock I had pinned to my belt and gave him a solid whack with it. He practically ran right into the thing; it was hilarious.

I chucked the rock at Michelle, giving it wings. It bounced off his kneecap and he hit the dirt. One quick pommel strike later, and he was out. It's probably a good thing I had to kneel a bit in order to do that, because Lamer II almost gave me a haircut. I could feel the electricity swirling above me, trying to find a contact point to shock me with.

With all the junk I was carrying, I couldn't exactly tumble, so I more stumbled forward. I felt a boot connect solidly with my rump, and I landed face-first on the forest floor. I rolled to the side, reaching back to grab my bow. I came up with an arrow nocked, and I meant to hit Clarisse with it, but I saw another archer off in the distance making bullseyes at me, so I let loose and snapped her shaft but good. I heard her shout something that I bet she thought was mean or something, and I dropped my bow. Clarisse was closing way too fast to justify mounting another ranged attack, and I'd dropped my sword when she kicked me, so I pulled my chain belt. About a dozen weapons clattered to the dirt, and I swung it in an arc to ward her off the attack. She wasn't impressed. All she had to do was tap the chain with the tip of her spear, and I got blow back by the shock. I dropped the chain, but my new position of my back (again) gave me a neat vantage point to see the rest of the fight with.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that we were _winning_. Our miniature formation had only lost a couple of guys, but they had turned a defense to all sides and were just strolling right on through, beating down anyone who tried to stop them two at a time. I just had to keep Clarisse occupied.

I reached for the big axe (heh, big-axe) on my back, but it shocked me when I gripped its _metal hilt_. Well that sucked. Half my armory had metal grips. That just left…

I could feel Nemesis laughing at me. That left me in a spear-fight with Clarisse.

I dropped everything I could (including my traitorous arm-knife, which was now giving me a neat dose of lightning) and rolled back, into a standing position. I drew the spear and threw another rock to distract her. It didn't really work.

I weighed my options. On the one hand, my brain was practically exploding with cool ways to use a spear. On the other, my opponent had way more pure experience, which I figured put us at an even level. I'd fought Big Sis before, but I never won, much less when we were using the same weapon. That said…I _did_ have an advantage this time. We weren't in the training ring anymore. Clarisse was good, but she trained to kill, not to K.O. And she was so far above me that I really had no choice but to pull every last resort I had.

In short, she had to hold back and I didn't. I hoped that would be enough.

Gripping my spear in both hands, sizing her up. She had a shield, which would make getting hits through a pain, but I had more leverage and more reach. Which was a pretty hefty advantage, since the whole point of using a spear was to be able to hit someone from a bigger distance than if you used a sword. Clarisse could pinch me from the range of a broadsword, _maybe_ a hand and a half.

We circled each other, and I kept on her left side, where the shield was. For a few long minutes, we were at a complete impasse. I'd move at her head or legs, she'd adjust her shield and lunge, I'd backpedal, and we repeated. Problem was, I'm not an endurance machine. I'd get tired way before her.

Eventually, we spun to the point that I saw the original battlefield behind her. It was empty, and my formation was long gone. The creek, the point where a team had to carry the flag over to win, wasn't far past that point. If I could keep Clarisse on her toes…

I guess she thought it was suddenly too quiet, because her head turned so quick I was sure she'd snap her own neck. I ran toward her while she was distracted, and my face met shield. Okay, maybe she wasn't as distracted as I thought.

I lost my hold on my spear, but I didn't drop. It didn't make much difference, though. Lamer II was heading straight for my chest. It probably wouldn't kill me, but it'd definitely take me out of the fight.

That was when something really weird happened.

Everything around me slowed down. Everything is already stuck in the Matrix when adrenaline hits you, but this was ridiculous. The issue was, I had no control over myself. All I could do was watch and feel as my hands lashed out. Unlike everything else, they were moving so fast that they looked to be at regular speed.

For just a split second, something crossed my mind, the same instinct that hits when I 'learn' how to use a weapon. But before I could even figure out what the Hades it was, the thought faded.

My feet pivoted, leaning me to the right. That would have been enough to send Lamer II sailing right past me, but my left hand reached out and caught it just below the tip. Before it lost any momentum, my other hand shaped itself into a solid palm and smacked the spear dead center, shattering it like a twig.

My right elbow followed the rest of my arm, focusing what felt like my entire body weight into the point, and it hit Clarisse so hard that she straight backflipped away from me.

The bad news? I'm pretty sure I broke my entire arm from the force.

Both of us stood there in the quiet for a looong time, staring at each other. I was coming off my adrenaline high, and let me tell you, a broken elbow hurts. Bad. Clarisse massaged her broken nose (yeah, like that was a fair trade) and stared at the splinters formerly known as Maimer II.

"What in Hades is it with my spears getting broken all the time?" She asked numbly.

"Maybe you should give the normal ones a shot." I joked, but I was in so much pain that it was more like a whimper.

We heard a whistle blowing, signaling that my team had won. I should have been happy, but I was scared out of my mind. What was up with my new ability to snap magic spears in half? Not that it wasn't badass, but it hadn't felt like me. It was more like someone else had taken me over and pulled some Judo moves. And I hated feeling like I wasn't in charge of myself.

A blurry form came out of the woods and walked up to me. I could barely make out his face, but his staff was more distinctive. Mike something. I'd seen him talking to Rachel earlier during lunch. "Fight's over." I told him.

He shook his head. "I have not, and never will participate in this game as a fighter."

He whispered something, and my head felt three times its normal size.

(Shut up, Ryan)

The last words I heard out of him before I ate dirt were: "That would be unfair."


	8. 8 - Rachel Goes Green

**Pola**

* * *

So, remember when I said that I woke up in the infirmary way too often? Well, this qualified as another one of those times.

When I had all my senses back (including my sense of pain, which was not so fun), I noticed I was in the Big House with a dozen or so other people with concussions, major bruises, broken bones and such. There was plenty of ambrosia and nectar lying around, and a bunch of satyrs were tending to the wounded. Pretty much every Apollo camper that wasn't out was chanting over a wasted camper or two.

I didn't feel any different than I had when that staff dude put me down, so I guessed they prioritized a little bit. Or maybe the Apollo campers just didn't want to mess around with me.

That wasn't all I noticed, though. I had visitors. Ryan, Clarisse (boy was I surprised by that one), and the exact same guy who'd whispered me under. Now that I could see his face, I recognized him. Michael Far-something. His family moved from India to the U.K., and he took a boat to New York just a year ago. He was a little old to be a camper, so I figured he must be pretty powerful. Based on the voodoo he slapped on me, my first guess was a Hecate kid, but he stuck around in the Hermes cabin most of the time.

He must have saw I was staring, because his first words to me were, "I'm sorry about the Asphyxia."

Well at least we were off to a good start. "Whatever." I tried to shrug and then my arm reminded me it was broken in like a billion placed. "Any longer awake and I probably would've done something stupid like try to punch out someone else with the bum arm."

Clarisse looked like we were having the same thought; more likely I'd have started crying like a baby or something right then. She didn't say anything, though. I guess she didn't want another elbow in the face.

I looked Ryan up and down critically. "Good plan, Roman Boy. That formation ripped 'em to shreds."

"I assumed that." He didn't look very happy that we'd won. Whatever, his loss. Then again, maybe he was just worried about which god to dedicate the victory too. Pretty harsh.

"So it turns out he's some kind of tactical whiz and you're Bruce Lee." Clarisse said. "Any other surprises you want to point out now?"

I saw Michael do this weird half-smirk thing that Clarisse didn't seem to notice. I guess he had waaaaay more surprises than he thought she could handle. I shook my head. "I, uh, can't actually do martial arts, so something else is going on."

Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Tell that to my nose. You been holding out on me, sis?"

I started to make a snappy comeback. Really, I did. It was going to burn like fire and ice. What she said cut off my voice pretty well, though. It was always 'girl' or 'Reese'. She'd never, _ever_ called me 'sis' before. For some reason, that made me feel all stupid and giddy. If stuff like that was a side effect, I could definitely live with being Bruce Lee.

"You figure my weapons thing goes with the rest of me, too?" I asked. I didn't think that was likely. Sticks and stones were more my speed. The body wasn't a _weapon_, though. I looked at stuff like Judo as more like really effective dancing than fighting.

"It's possible you manipulate them to a greater extent than your adherent modifications suggest." Ryan said. And yes, that was a word-for-word quote. Super painful use of big words. All three of us just stared at him. "You're good at anything to do with weapons, not just wielding them."

I wondered if that meant I could move cannonballs with my mind or something. I doubted that. Aside from that, magic weapons screwed with my ability. Even if I could somehow be Weapon Empathy Girl, it wouldn't work on Lamer II. So, yeah, I wasn't reassured. "Who told him about my weapon thing?" I asked.

"Apparently he was curious as to why you trained so exhaustively with a chain and a flashlight." Michael said dryly.

Okay. That made sense. "What time is it? I didn't miss dinner, did I?"

Ryan shook his head. "It's in an hour. Chiron would have been here, but he had to go off and do something. Didn't say what."

"Talking to Rachel, probably." Clarisse gave Ryan a side-eye. "Now that you're native."

Ryan started sputtering like a faucet mixed with a dying fish. It was _hilarious_. "I am _not_ native!"

"It's a _good_ thing, Roman Boy." I rolled my eyes at him. "That trick with the ten-minute formation assembly won us the fight with half the manpower. And you doing it all in just light armor and a spear looked pretty boss, too." I know, high praise, coming from me. And I don't compliment lightly.

"Hmph." The guy settled on looking like a pouty nine-year-old. "I'm still not certain whether drawing so much attention to myself was a good idea."

"You're in decent company. Jackson practically made a career off of it." Clarisse said.

Ryan's eyebrows shot up. "Jackson? Percy Jackson?"

If my mouth hadn't been dry, I'd have done a spit-take. "You _know_ him?"

"Of course I know him! He is..._was_...a praetor." He looked pretty conflicted about that.

Clarisse and I exchanged glances. "I guess we can't make too much fun of you for buddying up with us, then, huh?" I said.

Ryan grunted. "I'd rather you operate under that assumption than skewer me."

I barely caught Clarisse muttering something like 'skewer you with _what_?' while looking my way, but I acted oblivious.

After I promised that I wouldn't beat them with my chain, I got one of the Apollo kids to work their magic on my arm. Turns out their magic wasn't very magical. It was just them setting the bones back into place (some advice for undergoing the procedure - **don't**) and wrapping a cast around my arm. The nectar was nice (to me it tastes like pinot noir, and to this day I have _no idea why_; I only even know that's what it is because I described it to Pollux one time), but it didn't do the whole job. Nothing will make you feel helpless and awesome at the same time quite like a hospital job.

Michael drifted off at some point, and I'm pretty sure Clarisse got itchy and decided to put someone in a headlock. That left Ryan and I at dinner. He made for the Hermes table, but I held him back.

"Just so you know, if it turns out your parent's Ares, I'll save you a spot at the table." I told him.

He looked taken aback, but what can I say? Sometimes you just fight with somebody and get a better feel for them than just a few talks. I think that was the point Chiron was trying to make earlier.

After we ate (and pretty much everyone at the Ares table either signed my cast or got like a million Indian Burns), everyone headed out to the campfire. The fire it makes is magical, and it gets brighter or dimmer depending on everyone's mood. That night, it was pretty above average. Capture the flag days tend to have that effect on us. So much accidental badassery has gone on during them that we just associate the game with good omens now.

We were halfway through the songs when everything went wrong.

Rachel and Chiron showed up a little while after we started the third verse, and Rachel started walking toward Ryan. But she looked like an extra from a zombie movie - her eyes were glassy, and her feet were moving in a shuffle, not a stride. Chiron looked surprised enough that I figured this wasn't part of any plan.

Rachel reached Ryan and green mist started pouring off of her in waves. She was almost glowing brighter than the fire, especially since everyone had stopped singing and the actual fireplace shrunk from big and bright to a tiny black pit in the blink of an eye.

And then - I kid you not - she started speaking Japanese.

No, seriously. It sounded like 'mezzo ho-ho mi mitsubishi'. Hey, I don't speak it, okay?

Everything got twice as creepy when, most of the way through what I guessed was a prophecy, Ryan joined in. He was saying the exact same words in the exact same tone at the exact same time, like he knew what was going on and was playing the game. They stopped talking, shook themselves, and stared at each other.

"What in Pluto's domain was _that_?" Ryan yelped.

"I don't know!" Rachel looked twice as freaked out. I guess she'd never had no idea what her prophecies meant before now. "I think...I think that was Japanese!"

"Well, what did it mean?"

"How should I know?! It was in _Japanese_!"

Then it started all over again. Everyone, including Chiron, was standing around, not sure what to do. I wasn't sure either, but I was stuck between running away and dying of laughter. Okay, it was freaky, but it was so absurd that I wasn't sure what to do with what I was seeing.

"_Shingen no and-_ what's going on?!" Ryan shouted.

Chiron got hold of himself first, and moved to push them away from each other. For absolutely no reason, I looked to my left, past Apollo cabin. There, hiding behind the side wall, was the same bird lady I'd seen the night before. She was staring right at me, and she was smiling like she knew everything and I didn't, and she was loving it.

Then everyone gasped, and my head swirled around so fast I heard my neck crackle. Fortunately that covered up the tiny scream I'd let out when I saw Bird Girl.

Chiron had managed to pull Rachel away from Ryan, who was standing in a bright golden glow that almost blinded all of us. When it faded a little, all of us looked at the symbol that had appeared over his head with awe.

You see, Ryan? THAT'S how you do a cliffhanger. Back to you.


	9. IX - Second Sight Unseen

**Ryan**

* * *

It isn't like I was asking for much.

I mean, we had just won a war game, had huddled around the campfire to celebrate (an event which, by the way, I found amusingly rustic), and then prophecy has to go and ruin everything.

In case you were wondering, no, I have no idea what Rachel's prophecy meant. As she said, it was in Japanese. That wasn't really covered in basic training. Nor had I any clue as to why I could complete the prophecy she gave. It wasn't as though I was possessed – you know how, if you watch a scene in a movie or read a line in a play over and over, you can complete the sentences without thinking about it? This was exactly like that, but I had never heard the lines before.

And now it looked like there was a monochromatic disco ball over my head. Fantastic.

For the first few moments, I couldn't tell what was going on. All of a sudden, everyone around me was bathed in light, and it appeared to be emanating from a spot above my head. I tried to look up, but the whatever-it-was appeared far too bright to be seen directly without going blind for a few moments. It was like looking into the sun.

_The sun._

_Oh._

The instant the light dimmed, my head shot up. Floating above me, in plain view, was a golden lyre. As I was struck speechless, Chiron got in the first word. He dipped his head forward, and the campers followed suit. "The golden archer, the everlasting harp, god of the sun…all hail Ryan, son of Apollo."

* * *

I should have been excited. I was, in fact! But all I could think in that moment was: _Great. I'm related to Octavian._

Oh, and also I thought someone was playing a prank on me.

How could I be a son of Apollo? I couldn't shoot straight, couldn't sing or play an instrument, heal people, or see the future. My only abilities seemed to be reading and completing Japanese prophecies. Go me.

But apparently, my father saw something in me such that he'd chosen to claim me. And given that his name was the same, I couldn't tell whether I was being claimed by his Greek or Roman version. Was there even a difference? I was sketchy on the details.

But that was neither here nor there. I was back in the Big House, with Chiron, Clarisse, Rachel, and all of the other cabin heads. I kept getting odd looks, which I could understand, but Will Solace, the head of the Apollo cabin, seemed to be actively avoiding me.

Everyone was talking at once, but I was too shell-shocked to pay much attention to the goings-on. Eventually, I made a snap decision to accept and be grateful for my heritage regardless of what came after.

Apparently I had been silent too long, because almost a minute passed before I realized everyone was staring at my in anticipation.

"Sorry, what?" I asked.

"Who are you taking with you?" Clarisse sounded even more irritable than usual, which I chalked up to both the hour and the dire circumstances.

"What?" I repeated.

"They don't have quests where you come from?" Malcolm, the ranking counselor from Athena's cabin, said.

"Of course we have quests." I said haughtily. "But how is this one? We don't even know what the prophecy said."

"Be that as it may, we must take a course of action." Chiron shifted grimly in his seat; apparently he'd decided that going back to his wheelchair would bother me less for some reason. "A prophecy and quest being granted while the Great Prophecy is in progress is not unusual, but always important, and most often related to the matter at hand."

I held up a hand. "Great Prophecy?"

Rachel nodded. "The present one is about the war against Gaea. _'Seven half-bloods shall answer the call…'_"

"'_To storm or fire the world must fall._

_An oath to keep with a final breath,_

_And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.'_"

I finished the prophecy in something of a daze. I didn't have the same gravitas as Rachel did, but it was still clear.

Rachel's shoulders slumped a little bit and she frowned. "How do you keep _doing_ that?"

"One of Apollo's major facets is prophecy." Will said. "He gave the Oracle of Delphi her powers in the first place."

"I'd rather be able to do auguries when I choose to than be forced into completing prophecies, personally." I muttered.

"I'm not against sending him off on a quest, really." Miranda, Ceres'…sorry, Demeter's counselor said. "He proved himself capable enough. But we still don't have a direction."

I wanted to argue that, no, I wasn't capable. I didn't so much as throw a punch during the game. More to the point, if said game was any indication, I didn't think their idea of backup and my own were similar. I would have preferred at least a whole cohort at my back. With my luck they would give me as low as a five-man team.

There was a knock on the door. Clarisse moved to answer it, stared at whoever was behind it for a solid five seconds, and then slid it shut.

"Oh, come on!" I heard Pola shout from the other side.

"You're not party-crashing, pipsqueak." Clarisse growled.

"I know where he's supposed to go!"

That got our collective attention. Rachel moved forward and opened the door again. Apparently feeling that she had best act quickly before she was shut out once more, Pola began a rapid-fire explanation of her meeting the night previous with what she described as a bird-lady.

"While her appearance is reminiscent of a harpy to some degree, her manner is something else entirely." Chiron noted.

"'The oracle will not be able to help you…'" Rachel mused. "Well, she got that right. Unless somewhat managed to translate what I said?"

"Normally, I can speak Japanese flawlessly." Chiron said. "However, to my ears, it was gibberish. Some magic must be preventing us from comprehending its meaning."

"Which leaves us with what bird-lady told me." Pola said. "What's the land of the lost?"

"An old, dark place, where even mortals fear to tread." Chiron's voice was heavy.

"If you send us into the Bermuda Triangle again…" Clarisse muttered.

"Worse." Chiron told her gravely. "Wyoming."

Out of everything he could have said, that probably terrified me the least. Wyoming was practically next door to the west coast. That would put me in my home territory. Suddenly I was a lot more eager to go on this quest.

"What's so bad about Wyoming?" I asked.

"History repeats itself, like always." Malcolm said. "You remember Pompeii? Yellowstone Park is on top of a supervolcano that makes it look like a firecracker. Everyone can sense the danger there, and it's a massive spawning ground for monsters because of that."

"No demigod has ever returned from a quest set in Wyoming." Chiron sighed.

I suspected the reason behind that was more likely because the Twelfth legion had simply executed any Greek demigods who had come too close to 'Frisco, but didn't say anything. Pola, however, did. "Well hey, the Romans are from around that side of the U.S., right? Maybe Ryan leading the quest will give us better chances."

Clarisse narrowed her eyes. "'Us'?"

"Yeah, I mean, probably. Bird-lady came to me first, right?" She glanced my way, and I saw an expression in her eyes that surprised me: desperation. She either wanted very badly or _needed _to go on this quest, possibly any quest.

So, of course, I spoke without thinking. "I accept."

"You can't just-" Will began to object.

Chiron held up a hand for silence. "As the quest leader, it is his right to choose his two companions."

My mouth opened, then closed. Two? "Two? A total of three demigods? I wouldn't trek across half of North America with anything less than a legion at my back!"

"And be chased by monsters the whole way?" Hecate's counselor, Lou Ellen, said shrewdly, in between trying to elbow awake a comatose boy whose name I hadn't learned. "A small group has a far smaller chance of being detected. Plus, three is a good number. It's a…"

She fell silent. I could tell she was about to say that this tradition was a 'Greek thing'. Everything about this was a Greek thing. Except me. I was the odd one out, the one piece of the puzzle that didn't work with any of the others. I didn't even want to go on the quest for the sake of the quest. To be honest, I didn't even care about the fate of the world. I just wanted to get home and leave this all behind me.

"Well, fine." I said. "We have two. Who's the third?"

Pola took a step forward, put a finger up in the air, and responded with triumph. "I have _no_ idea!"

(Yes, Pola, I can operate with sarcasm as well.)


	10. X - Watery Grave

**Ryan**

* * *

So we had a quest with unknown dangers, no real goal, a starting point halfway across the country, our team consisted of a crazy child of Ares and a son of Apollo who couldn't do anything related to Apollo, and we hadn't the slightest idea who our third (_third!)_ company member was supposed to be. We were off to a wonderful start.

Pola suggested a recruitment drive, but I shot the idea down right away. I didn't want our desperation seeping through the ranks. The counselors started making me offers of their own campers like it was an auction. I met Chiron's gaze, and sent him a silent message: _Get me out of here._

He nodded and tapped a ping-pong paddle against the table. "It is for Ryan to decide on his second companion. For now, we should rest. The morrow will be dedicated to this matter."

Everyone separated, some none too pleased with the statement. The boy Lou Ellen had been toying with during the meeting had to be woken by a few raps on the head, but soon enough, only Ryan, Pola, and Will Solace remained in the Big House.

"So I follow you to your…cabin?" I asked him.

Will nodded tersely, but avoided eye contact with me. Pola shot him a glare. "What's your deal?" she asked.

"You're mourning," I realized. I'd seen his expression on a few faces back at Camp Jupiter after the battle with Gaea's forces. It was the look of someone who'd lost a friend…or a relative. "You're mourning _me._"

Will shook his head. "I'm sorry, this is a bad way to officially introduce us. Don't get me wrong; I'm glad to have you as a brother, but…quests are bad for children of Apollo."

"What?" I was startled; I'd never heard of this back home. With my luck, this was a Greek-specific thing that would end in my death. "Why so?"

"Well, for the rest of the pantheon, the total of three demigods is something of a lucky number," he explained. "But not for us. It's this curse that an angry child of Hecate put on our cabin back in the nineteenth century. You've heard of The 27 Club? All children of Apollo, all dead at a very specific age. Three cubed, or three times three times three. It's a bad omen for any of us."

Wow. How prophetic of me.

"So? He's not 27, last I checked," Pola said.

Will shrugged. "That's the most powerful instance, but not the only one. Just…stay away from threes, alright?"

I must have looked pretty downtrodden, because he tried to look cheerful. "It's not all bad. Think of it as being in a family with the greats. The Beatles, Elvis…"

"Justin Bieber," I noted.

Will brought a hand up to his face. "Not this again."

"Hah!" Pola pointed at both of us. "Nope! Nuh-uh! You're not stealing The Biebs from us!"

"I…Ares?" I asked, bewildered.

"No duh." Pola shook her head. "Have you _seen_ the wars and hate that spring up around that guy? He's a chip off the old block."

"You know, Dionysus' cabin put up a claim, too." Will said.

"Pollux tries to steal all of ours." Pola rolled her eyes. "If debauchery was just a Dionysus thing, half of us would be in the wrong place."

"You know he sings, too," I said.

They both stared at me.

"Right, never mind," I muttered.

"Hey, Pola!" We were halfway to the cabins when we saw a guy standing by the campfire, waving at us.

"Oh, look, it's Damien Stevens." Will looked like he was trying not to laugh, and I saw a blush creep up Pola's cheeks. I recalled seeing looks like that in the midst of certain inter-Cohort relationships, and if my guess was right, this daughter of Ares had some sort of crush on whoever this Stevens guy was. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I wisely decided not to say anything. Not to Pola, anyway.

"Don't talk," she told him, making circles with her hands all around her body. "Knives. Just…_knives_, all over here."

Will couldn't keep from chuckling, but he nudged me forward. "Come on, I'll show you to the cabin."

When we were what I determined to be an appropriate distance from the now-conversing pair, I glanced back at Will. "What's that about?"

"Just Reese being a softie." We stopped in front of a building that looked to be made of solid gold. Even in the night, it seemed to glow, reflecting the light of the campfire into rays that shone every which way, lighting up the area better than any lamp. I found it to be rather tacky, which probably wasn't a good sign. "Those two keep trying to hook up, but in case you didn't notice, our little cyclone is more than a little standoffish."

I nodded, having suspected as much. I made to open the cabin's door, but before we could step inside, Will put a hand on my shoulder.

"Look," he said. "I know this is all strange to you, and you probably don't even want to be here. Maybe you're even ticked because this took so long. I know I was. But just…remember that Dad chose you for this mission. He saw something in you worth the risk. _The west star spins on,_ _And its children are not still_, _Walk on in the light."_

"Was that haiku?" I asked. "That's so…" I managed to stop myself before I did something stupid. Again.

Will rolled his eyes. "Lame? I know. But apparently it's 'in'. So until a new style comes about, it's sort of our unofficial motto."

We stepped inside, and I was struck by how odd the scene was, not to my eyes, but to my ears. The interior had more band posters than bunks, and several campers seemed to be engaged in a sort of passive-aggressive war, sticking their poster in such a way as to cover up another, and a perfectly clear section of wall near the far end was the worst offender, as it appeared to have been used for this purpose for decades.

More than that, though, there seemed to be a surround-sound system that I couldn't see playing the _oddest_ music I'd ever heard. It wasn't any one song, but it shifted every other second. First, rock-and-roll, then smooth jazz, and into swing before returning to an entirely different cycle. I found that if I concentrated enough, I could pick and choose what sort of style I heard. The volume was set at a flawless level; loud enough to be heard everywhere, but not enough to overshadow any ambient conversations.

In one corner of the room, someone has set up a medical station, complete with one of those CPR practice dummies and about a thousand first aid kits. Every bunk had a nook in the wall next to their bed level that held a bow and quiver of arrows, and this location seemed sacred to everyone, as it alone was where no posters were to be found.

I moved forward, stepping over a couple of discarded iPods, looking about. Everyone had stopped chatting, humming, and breakdancing (don't ask) to take a look at me. I felt self-conscious, but something inside me spoke in the same silent voice it had earlier, telling me that I needed to present myself as they should see me: confident, capable, and unafraid.

To this day, I think I just looked sick, but they didn't seem to mind. Will introduced me to the cabin at large. "Everyone, this is Ryan…" He looked at me. Ah, the lack of surname struck again.

I waved my hand. "Pick anything except Newman."

One girl nearby who had only taken out one of her earbuds to listen furrowed her brow. "Why, what's wrong with Newman?"

"It's just a roundabout way of calling me a girl." I explained. I hadn't really meant it as a joke, but I got a few laughs anyway.

"He'll be with us a few days until he starts his quest." Will went on, ignoring the chorus of winces and frowns. "So we'll make them count."

I'll be honest. I expected more reluctance on the part of the campers. But almost everyone came to greet me, and a few of them actually gave their condolences, which didn't help. Not for the first time, I wondered if any of them knew what I was. The last person I said hello to was the girl who'd spoken up earlier. She nodded at me coolly when I approached. "Farah Barton." She said. "Your bunk's at the top. I only have two rules; don't use my iPod and don't mess with Evanescence." She nodded at her poster, which I noted warily didn't seem to be a part of a war.

I glance up and almost fell over myself. On the notches next to my bunk was a polished longbow and a quiver of arrows with golden feathers. Farah's gaze followed mine, and she shrugged. "Every cabinmate gets a set. Just don't break it, or we make you build your own from scratch."

When I recovered, I blurted "You do know I'm Roman, right?" like an idiot.

Farah raised an eyebrow. "So? Does that somehow make your dad any less Apollo?" I wanted to say something. Probably either 'yes' or 'no'. But I couldn't. Farah rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about fitting in so much, new kid. Every soul has their own guiding star, and special snowflakes are kind of Apollo's _thing_."

I crawled into my bunk, and found another surprise waiting for me. My own iPod. I supposed that, too, was tradition. I made eye contact with Will and nodded, holding it up. He gave me a confused look, like '_I didn't give that to you, whose is it?_'

I looked down at it. It only had two songs. 'Lisztomania' by Phoenix and 'Requiem for a Dream'. One of those felt ominous to me, the other was confusing. I checked the back. There was a small note attached. _"Seek. Believe. Dive."_

The ominous quotient went up by a factor of twenty. But it had been a long day. Carefully, I slipped the device under my pillow and set my head down.

And that would have been the end of it, except I'm a demigod, remember? We don't have bad dreams, we have real nightmares. And mine was _strange_.

* * *

I was walking down a long stone hallway. It was generally featureless, and even though I couldn't see outside and there were no torches, there was enough light for everything to be visible. As I walked, voices repeated random phrases in my ear, but when I turned, there was no one there. And, of course, all of the words were in Japanese.

After what seemed like forever, I reached a door. It was probably ornamental with a whole lot of meaning, but it's not like I remember every detail of these things. I opened it, and I found myself on a beach. The sand and water stretched out into infinity behind and in front of me. Some distance to my left, I caught sight of a figure standing up to their knees in the surf. They were relatively indistinct, but I could tell it was a woman with black hair.

Something told me that she was important. I waded in after her, but a force was pulling me back, slowing my progress to a crawl. I shouted at her, but I had no voice. Still, she turned in slow motion. Her hair swung first, initially obscuring her features. Then I saw her. Her face was pale, but her cheeks were tinged red, whether from exertion or makeup, I wasn't sure. Her thin lips twisted into a grimace of surprise, and her brown, almond-shaped eyes widened when she saw me.

I reached out my hand to pull her out of the water, but the instant my skin made contact with hers, she turned clear, and exploded dissolving into a puddle, just another piece of the surf.

I woke with a start, just as drenched as I had been in my dream.


End file.
